


Changing Tides

by WitchHobi



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Eventual Romance, M/M, Mentions of Character Death, Mentions of Violence, Sindria Judal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-08 01:31:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3190778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitchHobi/pseuds/WitchHobi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sindria Judal AU</p><p>The day was lovely and something already felt very wrong. <br/>	The sun was shining (like always), and the air was crisp and slightly humid (like always), yet something just felt off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Changing Tides

**Author's Note:**

> This first chapter is really short, but I'll write another soon.

The day was lovely and something already felt very wrong.

            The sun was shining (like always), and the air was crisp and slightly humid (like always), yet something just felt _off._

            Ja’far sighed, shifting in his seat as he filled out paper after paper of endless busywork. The workload never got smaller and his days never got busier, yet for some reason he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing something, that something was amiss and he had yet to discover it.

            He gave up.

            These suspicions would never let him work peacefully, so he decided on taking a break to investigate. After all, every once in a while the work could wait and Sinbad was right when he said Ja’far needed to relax a bit more often.

 

* * *

 

            He’d failed.

            His entire body ached with this odd hollow feeling and with a throbbing in his skull. They’d been beaten literally and figuratively and their fight ended with the snap of his companion’s neck and this pain that echoed deep in his chest when the boy’s body fell to the floor with a thud that sounded like his heart in his ears and in that moment he finally understood what that whole “grief” business was about. He fled, but not before being bludgeoned and bruised, cut and scraped first, though.

            The idea of asking _them_ for help practically sickened him at first, but suddenly the thought of tropics and warmth and some goddamn _peace_ for once sounded near-lovely to him.

            He’d finally touched ground somewhere on the coast, the tide touching his blistered feet and oh god that ankle _had_ to be broken. He hissed through his teeth and began limping into town.

            The bustle of the nation never ceased to irk him but now it was a special thorn in his side, to his pounding head and the sense of vertigo that was slowly sinking in, making him feel nauseous with every step he took. Thoughts of his fallen comrade pass through his conscience and he swears he’s fading fast when he stumbles forward, knees colliding with the road and he practically whines as his mangled ankle smacked the ground on the recoil and he was pretty sure it’d be more comfortable to lay down and die than to continue onward to the palace.

            Just as he’d begun crawling back to his feet, an apathetic voice spoke to him.

            “I should’ve known that my bad feeling was your fault, Judal… My gods, what’s happened to you this time? Is this another ploy trying to get me to let my guard down? Well it won’t work this time.”

 

* * *

 

            Ja’far couldn’t believe it.

            He couldn’t believe it that he hadn’t guessed.

            No, why should he have? No one could’ve guessed they’d find Judal’s knees buckling before them and him practically crying out when what looked like a bad break on his leg touched ground.

            He almost felt bad for him.

            Almost.

            Ja’far was sure that he was faking, trying to get him to let his guard down and take him to Sinbad only so he could make an assassination attempt on his liege, yet, he looked so bad.

            His daunting scarlet eyes lacked their typical threats and were instead filled with nothing but emptiness. His ridiculous braid had been severed and his hair now fanned out over his back just below his shoulders. His leg was most definitely broken and he wouldn’t be surprised if he had a few broken ribs as well. Blood trickled down his hairline and from a gash on his abdomen.

            “Ja’far.” Even Judal’s voice was rough, as if he’d gone days without water or he’d spent too long yelling. “Ja’far.” He said again, almost sighing in the process.

            Ja’far was almost shocked that the Magi actually knew his name and he furrowed his brow, “what is it?” He said warily.

            Judal’s face twisted a bit, as if it pained him to even speak, “I,” he paused, swallowing, “I doubt you’ll take me to Sinbad, I know the blood’s bad, hell, it’s goddamn rancid by now, so you won’t show me kindness…” He coughed, blood spattering the ground when he did, “so please, help me up at least, so I can find help elsewhere.”

            Ja’far wasn’t sure what to say so he spoke the first thing on his mind, “how will you go someplace else with a broken leg.”

            “I’ll manage somehow.”

            The general couldn’t help but feel a stab of sympathy for him, he’d been in this position before when he was much younger than Judal and wouldn’t have survived without Sinbad’s help and in the state the poor man was in…

            He sighed, bending a knee to the Magi and offered him a hand, “come on, let’s get you back to Sin.”

 


End file.
